A Chapter Lost
by Mooseofdoom
Summary: Story following a few space marines trying to restore their chapter. First story posted so first few chapters might not be the best. Some swearing/violence. Some funny bits. Criticisms would be awesome. Hopefully updated every Friday...
1. Finding yourself

Dicax Malleus was leaning back on a dull metal bench, causing it to pivot onto the rear legs, his primary servo arm acted as a buttress between him and the thick steel bulkhead, his feet rested atop a high precision, plasteel workbench. In his hands he held a small burnt plasma coil. The only illumination came from the cognigator by Cax's side and an aura of yellow light emanating from the metal piles around him in the otherwise spartan room.

Cax sighed and turned the metal in his hands, 'good enough,' he thought, entirely to himself, and tossed it into the brightest pile. The silence was broken as the heap settled. The darkness of this room calmed him, he was allowed his own thoughts here. He picked up a second coil and examined it breifly before throwing it into another pile. This wasn't worth it: the best of these would barely last for one shot before destabalizing.

Cax turned to the cognigator by his side and set to work organizing his surfs. He took the time to tap orders into his cogitator, as opposed to just thinking them there. There were only a few servitors anyway... it wasn't much work.

He searched for some good news through the inputs.

He summoned a promising visual feed and moved the text input to a corner.

+Servitor b 73+  
+9.079.780.M41+ -  
+Worklog begins+  
+scanning... Severe burning+

A primary servo arm activated, the motor almost inaudibly whining as it rotated the vice-grip. An ultrasonic scanner climbed to it's necessary frequency and broke the silence. In the background, several other robed figures could be seen scouring and salvaging from various mechanisms that littered the room, bringing unnerving metallic clinks and scrapes to the otherwise deathly silence.

+Multiple fractures; first, second and third layer. Processing...+

A few seconds passed, a relay clicked.

+salvage and replace+

The half-machine being placed the meter-long blackened armour panel back onto the oiled cloth. Both it's primary and secondary servo arms raised, they clamped onto their first bolts and began unscrewing.

The panel shuddered, causing the carbon crust to disintergrate. Colours were visible now, a marbled red with white-silver tracts.

The Layers of plating were separate.

+Scanning... Primary ceramite layer, irreparable;  
secondary ceramite layer, irreparable;  
primary Plasteel layer, deformed, reparable;  
adamantine layer, undamaged, reusable+ -

Cax actually smiled, though he wasn't entirely sure why, he knew it only meant more work. He tapped a few keys and watched the servitor begin to retreat to a recharging port.

There was a loud hiss from the vents around the door behind Cax. The room was suddenly completely silent, Cax slipped his feet from the workbench and extended his servo arm to right himself. The room was completely dark now. As he climbed to his feet, he picked up his techmarine's poweraxe and brought it to a guard across his chest, it was as much a weapon as it was a tool. No noise was made. He shifted his leg and felt the comforting and familiar weight of his bolt pistol in it's holster on his right thigh. He lit the stablight mounted on his shoulder, illuminating a circle of the door in front of him. Compressed, white air streamed in through the vents, the thick door creaked as the pressure equalised. It slid open.

'Oh it's you' Cax lowered his weapon to his side.

'Are you all right brother? It said atmosphere in here was toxic - I thought you might be practicing your people skills. ' Cax flipped on the main light and turned off his own, fully illuminating the space marine before him.

'Ha ha...' came the deadpan response, 'I was checking the plasma coils and trying to grab some quiet time.'

'While holding your breath?' the armoured figure quipped.

Cax sighed. 'The room was filled with a heavy isotope of neon gas, when the electrons from rad...'

'Hey, hey,' the figure waved his arms defensively, I never said I cared.'

Cax hated that about Rusty. He was rude and an idiot, he never wanted to know anything apart from where to point his gun. His actual name was Russel stultus. As far as cax knew he hadn't been in a campaign yet, with barely 3 years service to his name. Cax wasn't much better with 37 years, 30 of which were spent with the cult mechanicus.

Cax disengaged his helmet, taking it with his free hand. His brown hair had matted, his skin was pale and his jaw set. He stared straight at Rusty with his best 'I'm pissed off' look, he shrunk under the gaze.

'Sorry brother,' he said after a moment, 'Anyway I come with good news.' Cax broke his glare and looked over Rusty for a second.

He wore a slightly up armour suit, the mark eight variant, the additional neck armour covered some of his face grill. His left shoulder pad bore the insignia of the Crimson Scythes. A marbled sanguine background with a stark silver scythe diagonally across, blade pointing down. His right shoulder bore the tactical squad mark, A white arrow pointing upwards. The remainder of his armour was painted a near black red, but brown and purple stains covered his lower half.

His flamer hung by his side, distorted by the hot air from the pilot light. Cax supposed it paid to be careful.

'You need to clean your armour brother.'

'So do you.' Rusty retorted quickly, suddenly looking more confident.

Cax checked himself, his suit was covered in grime. The rust-red colour of the adeptus mechanicus barely permeated through the various engine oils and grease.

'Point taken,' he nodded, 'what's the good news?'

'Two things actually, I reckon I've found our relic and the apothecary is stable and ready, he asked for you.'

'Tell him I have to prepare first, I'll be in the workshop.'

Rusty nodded and took a step back to allow Cax through, he grabbed some things from the workbench and on his way past he pressed something into Rusty's hand.

Rusty looked in confusion for a second at the thing in his hand, then chuckled. He gripped his flamer under his arm, took off his helmet and looked into it, he had to hold it high to see over his armour. He quickly found and took the communicator out from near the face-grill, carefully disengaging the catches and pulling out a wire. He replaced it with the new one in his hand and put on his helmet again.

He briefly considered testing it, but decided to wait until he actually had something to say.

He readied his flamer and walked down the corridor. He rounded a corner and stopped when he saw the red footprints he had left on the way here. He focused his gaze dead ahead of him.

He tried to ignore the crunch underfoot.


	2. Painting

'Why did you bring him here?'

Rusty glared at Cax, and Cax glared right back.

'Because he asked me to,' Rusty replied, grunting with the effort of pushing the heavy metal box. 'Anyway, he's over 200 years my superior, i wasn't exactly going to say no.'

'Well all it means is I have to rush now so he dosen't get pissed off.'

Cax turned back to his work, 'stick him in the corner, and plug him in, i can at least have an intelligent conversation.'

Rusty looked up as though to say something, but thought better of it. He strafed to his right to heave the box round.

They were in the ship's workshop, a large, rectangular room, large enough to house four thunderhawks at least. At the moment it was empty aside for wrecks of vehicles, servitors, and scars of bolt and plasma rounds. Four servitors meandered through the wreackages occasionally stopping to examine or collect materials. At one end, near the entrance, a techmarine stood in front of the gray machine he was working on, fitting an armoured panel that he knew wasn't supposed to fit. He recited litanys of the Machina Opus in an attempt to appease the machine spirit he knew he was angering. He hoped that it understood the nessesity of his actions. Behind him, and to his right, a marine, clad in reddish black armour, with a flamer connected to his belt, was connecting a large inscribed box to several ports at a workbench. The "box" was a life support system, high gothic litanys of survival and continued service adorned it's guilded surface. In it lay roughly half of a chapter apothecary.

'How much longer must i endure this?' The voice came across as calm and monotonous.

'Chronos!' Cax looked up, 'should only be half an hour now brother, i've just got to paint the thing and preform a few rites for calming for the spirit, then we can stick you in.'

'Brilliant,' came the metalic drone of a response.

Both Cax and Rusty stopped for a moment then looked towards Chronos, 'Sarcasm?' Rusty ventured before moving from the workbench and leaning against the wall.

'It was not brother, i grow weary of this tedium,' there was an odd noise emmited, causing several small tools to reverbriate. Cax guessed it was a sigh, 'Though i should be careful of what i wish for.'

Cax sensed that if he could he would have said that under his breath.

'What colour do you want your armour? I was thinking standard skull white with the prime helix, though i don't think i've ever seen an apothecary dreadnaught before.'

'I don't see why, i can't see myself being to uesful as an apothecary any more'

'Yeah,' Rusty chimed in, 'Giant crushy hands of death can really slow the healing process.'

'Ah ha, that's where you're wrong,' Cax smiled, 'when i'm finished, Chronos will be better than he was before.'

'And How's that?' Chronos asked with an impressive measure of disbelief for a vox cast-voice.

'well, i'll leave you with all the normal weapons available to a dreadnaught but i plan on also custom building an arm with basically whatever you want, i was thinking definately medical mechandrites with a chem-bank and maby an external life support interface...' Cax realised he was rambling and let his words fade.

'Sound good?' he asked hopefully.

There was another odd noise and more reverbriations.

'Paint me white,' came the stoic response.

Cax looked pleased with himself and gestured for Rusty to join him, he threw a spray paint gun in his direction.

What happened next however, was not expected.

With a loud and penetrating screech of metal on metal, a red blade punctured the door at a lower corner. A sudden reek of gore flooded the room. Cax began to draw his bolt pistol.

The spiked sword pushed upwards quickly, forming a deep gash through the hatch.

The door burst open, one half bending outwards, the other skittering across the workshop floor. Stood in the wake was a hunched red creature. It's skin was leathery and bulging over dense muscles, it's rear-facing legs ended in hooves. It's arms ended in sinuous fingers with razor sharp talons. Vicious horns rose from it's elongated head and a blistered tounge protruded from it's gaping maw. It held the hellblade in one hand by his side.

It let out an almighty roar and looked towards it's closest victim, rusty.

As the creature began to run towards him, Rusty raised his weapon and pulled the trigger. White paint sprayed out of the nozzle and coated the front half of the beast. Rusty turned his 'gun' to one side looking at it in confusion. He just had time to duck under the swing of the blade, but did not manage to miss the mighty kick that came after. He was sent sprawling across the room.

Cax squeezed off two shots from his bolt pistol as soon as his friend was clear, one struk the deamon in the chest, exploding at the surface and scratching it's tough skin and removing some paint, the other hit it in the free hand, blowing it's thumb off and impaling it into it's lower abdomen. The thing howled in pain and charged towards the source of the bolts. Cax squeezed off another two shots that managed only to anger the thing before it reached him.

Cax activated his poweraxe. Gripped with one hand, the hellblade swung up towards the techmarine from beneath, at the last possible moment he stepped to his right and swung his axe in a horizontal arc towards it's torso. The daemon Grabbed Cax's pauldron with it's mutilated hand and pulled itself in, the axe wrapped harmlessly around it's back. The daemon dropped it's sword and clawed for his bare face, a servo arm barely saved him from a nasty scar, though it was now rent and deformed itself. Cax felt the machine spirit howl in protest.

He suddenly remembered the weight in his right hand, he pressed it into the knee of the beast and squeezed the trigger. The pistol Barked and dark red viscera sprayed the floor. The beast's grip loosened, Cax rocked back onto his rear leg and bedded his right boot in it's abdomen. He sprang his leg out and pushed into it, lifting the creature off the floor and sending him slamming into the wall by the door six meters away. It slid down and caught itself with it's three remaining limbs. It had left the majority of it's right leg behind.

As the creature began to crawl towards him once more, he aimed his bolt pistol but stopped before taking the shot. Cax saw Rusty back on his feet and leveling his flamethrower.

A gout of burning promethium hit it from the side, adding burning flesh to the stench. The deamon was blown to the ground by the impact of the viscous liquid, it began another blood-curdeling scream as it thrashed on the floor infront of Cax. He felt the intense heat despite the distance.

Cax strode towards the writhing and screaming figure, raising his axe.

The scream ended abruptly, and deep red blood splattered Cax's legs. Pulling his weapon out of the beast's head, he allowed the blood and brains to vaporize around the power field before turning it off.

Cax had his boltgun trained on the door and moved up to check for more. He called the all clear.

'What about that thing?' Rusty asked.

Cax looked where he was pointing. The hellblade was twitching and vibrating on the floor.

'You could try painting it, that might work this time.' Cax grinned.

'very funny' Rusty replied, 'but what do i do with the sword?' Rusty repeated.

'Break it.' voxed an answer, 'but do it outside.'

'Sounds easy enough.' Rusty tentatively picked up the sword, pinching it between two armoured fingers.

'Oh, and i got that on tape.' Rusty stopped dead in his tracks, Cax burst out laughing and, though noticed only by himself, Chronos was smiling. 


	3. Life support

Cax plugged in the last few pipes and wires... the less important ones that he'd saved untill last. He motioned for Rusty to grab a thick, black cable from the floor.

The techmarine patted the gray box, 'He's ready.' He pulled his arm away and used his one remaining servo arm to fix the last armour plate in place. He took the cable from Rusty who, dispite himself, had stayed remakably quiet since he barracaded the door. He seemed distracted. Cax dismissed it; he was probably still sour from earlier.

Cax dragged the cable to the back of the dreadnaught and pushed it into the primary power port. There was a low hum of capacitors charging. Rusty had retreated to lean by the barricade.

Some time passed, Rusty had slumped to the floor and was polishing what he could of his armour.

Cax moved behind the machine, adjusting the power distribution and fiddling with various settings.

'This is unusual,' came a familiar, if slightly metallic voice.

'Oh emperor be praised, i was worried.' It had been thirty five minutes since powering up. 'How are you feeling?'

'Good...I got my voice back.'

'Yep, all that's done there is an amplification,' Cax said, 'which reminds me, don't try shouting, you will be very loud.'

'Why can't I move?'

Cax stopped his semi-pointless tinkering and walked to the front of the white dreadnaught so Chronos could see him.

'You'll be charging for a couple of hours before you become self-sufficient, sorry.'

'Why hours?' The white Dreadnaught asked incredulously, 'I assisted the incarnation of Trebonus - charging only took a little half an hour.'

'Well we're very low on power, the Gellar Field does that.' Cax stopped and looked to the charred remains by the door, 'Though it's still not perfect,' he added, turning back.

'And we've disabled all the life support in the ship.' Rusty chimed in, 'this area excluded.'

'Thank you brothers.'

There was a moment's silence.

'I've equiped you with two claws for now, it should help you get used to the movement, They'll be online in a few minutes. I've disabled your legs to save power, you won't be able to move about the ship anyway,' Cax gestured over his shoulder, 'the doors are too small.'

Chronos was silent for a moment, contemplating what he should say. 'what should I do then?' he asked eventually.

Cax pulled a data slate from his belt, 'read...' he tapped a few commands, 'that. There are also a few programs in there you can try out, they're basically combat simulations for new mark five dreadnaughts, helps you get used to it.'

'I'll give them a try.'

'So What do we do?'

Cax looked behind him to see Rusty cleaning his shin-plate with a rag. 'We could go and get our weapons back' he said hopefully

'What and leave him?' Rusty said as he wiped blood from his armour.

'Yes... He's a dreadnaught, we'll just wait five minutes so he can defend himself,' Cax thought for a moment, 'though I should give hime something to shoot with.'

Cax grabbed the attachments from the workbench where he had been fixing a few weapons. One was a flamer, the other a storm bolter. He checked the ammo and put the flamer down.

'I'm going to stick this under your fist,' he said checking the belt feed, 'left or right?'

There was no response.

'Chronos?' Cax walked to the white and silver dreadnaught.

There was still no response, Cax checked his vitals on his data slate.

Cax turned to Rusty with a smile 'He's asleep'.

'Really?' Rusty laughed, 'well it's fair enough, he's probably been awake for five days now.'

'Well i'll fix this thing on and we might as well go. I'll alarm the room, just in case.'

Cax deftly attached the storm bolter, securing it with bolts to the rail under the dreadnaught claw. He checked the ammo count, two hundred rounds - easily enough.

He stepped away from the dreadnaught and walked to the exit. He ducked under the broken door as he left. Rusty lingered, looking at the sarcophagus that held Chronos before following.

He met Cax at a engineering terminal just outside the door.

'So where is all our stuff?' Cax asked.

'Armoury, deck two.'

Cax pushed a button, a full schematic of the ship arrived on the black display, most areas flashed a yellow warning, the entire starboard side flashed red. There was one section on deck six that was a solid green. There were a few blue lines, power feeds, from other decks. From what Rusty could tell, only one of the five engines was working, it was the only one not outlined in red.

'It's been in the shield anyway so it should be clear, i'm restoring life support and gravity for that deck,' Cax said, gesturing a few commands, 'We'll be floating on the way there though.' He turned back to the panel and concentrated for a few moments

'Cax?' Rusty had removed his helmet, 'Why are we doing all this?'

Cax stopped, considering it for a second. 'Well, why are you alive?'

'Because I fought... and won'

'why?'

'Well i was with my squad. We just,' He hesitated for a moment, 'fought.'

'Tell me.' Cax rested his axe on the floor and leaned against the wall.

'Well we just came back from the chaos ship with the thunderhawk. We hadn't had any vox casts from the ship, but that happened all the time close to the eye.'

Cax nodded in agreement before Rusty continued.

'When we landed, we disembarked and expected to meet the chaplain for clensing. Turned out it was an ambush, two of my brothers were sucked into the void almost immediately. Seven of us managed to stay put, Volcanus and callos Were killed instantly by a few bolter rounds. Two more were cut down by a heavy plasma cannon. I actually managed to blow that thing up with a bolter round...' Rusty let out a breath.  
'My Captain was one of the last to die, he fought valliantly and eventually only had his combat knife, he easily slayed ten traitors. I was using a chainsword and my bolt pistol, the last other survivor was someone who i had never even talked to. I knew he was quiet, and very intelligent. We were fighting together to the last, we had actually cleared the room together. I myself only had two kills to my name, one being from the plasma discharge. When we thought the room was clear, i guarded the door while he checked our brothers for survivors.' Rusty stopped for a few seconds and his expression hardened.

'What happened to him brother?'

Rusty looked surprised by the voice, 'it doesn't matter, we can't stay here longer,' he set off down the hall.

'Russel,' Cax's voice was soft, Rusty stopped in his tracks, 'We are here because we do not want our chapter or it's brothers forgotton, we are here because we want to survive. Why do you think I saved the apothecary? He is the only one with the knowlege to extract the gene-seed.'

Rusty turned to the techmarine.

'Thankyou, brother.' He breathed deeply. 'You know, I used to think being a space marine would be easy.'

He replaced his helmet as he walked along the passage.

* * *

'We'll be there soon. Check that cutter. The rest of you ready up, and look over each other's gear.'

The quartermaster looked down to his own 'executioner' pattern las pistol and checked the charge on the power cell, almost full... well, full enough.

'Cheif?' He raised his head and scanned down the cramped landing craft, searching through the sixteen men in his charge. He found the source of the voice, a young sergeant, name of Seth Hays. He held up his long-las, 'will I need this?'

'Not unless you want to blow a hole through the hull.' There was a small ripple of laughter down the ship.

Another, distinctly more feminine trooper weighed in, 'You'll have to put your compensator away for today.' There was a louder round of laughter and some cheers.

The quartermaster raised his voice. 'Seargent Eden, I make the jokes around here, It's my job to piss off Hays.'

The female guardsman slumped back into her harness with a smile. Hays stowed his meter-long lasrifle into it's box below his seat.

'Right, now listen up ladies,' he nodded towards Eden, 'and lady. If any of you had more important things to do than listen to the briefing, i'll go over it again: We are on a standard search, look for survivors, look for records, look for supplies. We can expect minor chaos forces, we're pretty sure the ship just came out from the eye of terror.'

There was a call from the cockpit, 'ETA ten minutes'

'We're boarding the astares frigate 'Reaper' on deck two and moving down.' The quatermaster looked to his right. 'Book, do you want to do the honours.'

Book, another young marine, began his sermon.

* * *

Author's note:

Hi. I won't update next week (probably) as I have Exams. (though i'm still not sure if anyone's reading this yet)

Well i'm having fun anyway... with this chapter, i kinda realised that super space warriors from space can be kinda bland. Hopefully the new guys will be able to liven things up a bit.

I also have this kinda-sorta plan where people tell me characters that they want and i stick them in (I have thirteen Guardsmen spare if you want them (and maybe a pilot)).

Anyway, if that interests you leave a comment or PM me and i'll think about it (give it a week or two though, i have to revise)

See ya! :)


	4. Cutting Through

'...we fight for the Emperor'

Book carefully folded the litany he had been entrusted with and stowed it into a gilded coffer. The guardsmen replaced their headgear.

The quartermaster nodded a thanks to the marine before addressing the entire cabin. 'I just got a new transmission from HQ, the astares ship here is the last one intact of their fleet. It belongs to the Crimson Scythes, one of the twenty chapters guarding the eye of terror.' His eyes scanned over the information on his data-slate. 'Reports say they were attacked by chaos marines calling themselves 'Prophets of Undoing,' they're supposed to be psykers.' Worried looks were shot between guardsmen. 'Don't worry, the ship malfunctioned during the attack and jumped into the warp unprotected. It was there for nearly a day, we do _not_ expect to find survivors, but those space marines can be tough bastards.'

He brought up a hololith of two space marines, one was dark red with a silvered sanguine shoulder plate bearing a scythe. The other was coloured dark green with red, parts of it were charred. It had horns.

The Quartermaster pointed to the latter, 'Run,' he pointed to the former, 'Help.'

'Everybody got it?' There were a series of nods. 'Take some krak grenades just in case you can't run any further away.' He shut down the display and looked back to his slate. 'The ship was beat up pretty bad, the ship suffered some pretty bad shear from the warp: It doesn't have a starboard...' his voice trailed off and he frowned at the data.

There was a pause and looks of confusion, a marine spoke up, 'a starboard what?'

The quartermaster produced a small smile, 'it doesn't have a starboard side, it's half a ship. Scans say the rest is pressurized, though life support might not be on. Make it quick.'

There was a call from the cockpit, 'twenty seconds.'

The marines were lurched towards the boarding hatch as the retro-thrusters kicked in to slow them down. A series of colourful swears radiated from the marines.

The quartermaster had to yell over the roar of the thrusters, 'Remember this will be CQC, we're boarding through a loading bay into deck two, the commandos will be taking point. The rest of you are on haul and cover duty.' He paused as his momentum forced him against his harness.

'Hopefully we'll find enough to keep us going 'till we reach port in the Medusa subsector. Keep it quick and cover your sectors, i want you in and out in ten minutes. Remember: survivors, records, food, water and ammo. There'll be minimal resistance.'

There was another sharp jolt and a loud clunk. As soon as the movement stopped, the harnesses disengeged and people began to stand up.

An engineer nicknamed 'Flash' by his squadmates held a scanner auspex to the hatch. 'It's green guys,' he opened the inner hatch, revealing the outside of the ship they were boarding. He ignited the ark and began cutting through to the airlock.

At the boarding end, brightly lit by the plasma flare there were two men and one woman, each wore a green beret with a golden aquilla embroidered into the crest. The quartermaster addressed them.

'Eden, you'll be leading the boys to the armory and storage.'

The female, seragent Rosalind Eden, sighed loudly.

'Yes sir,' she agreed as she picked up two krack grenades from a shelf above her seat.

She wore a standard commando's rig optimised for close combat. Custom-built deflection plates were mounted onto her forearms and shins designed to be able to parry most blades. She wore light flack-kevlar to protect vital organs and a fixed-blade 8" knife strapped vertically to her shoulder-rig. She also had two, blackened throwing knives strapped to the outside of each thigh and a hot-shot las pistol at her waist. She was short, compared to the men, with clear blue eyes and light-brown hair worn in a short braid down her back.

'Mortlock, you take hays with you and download the black box records, also do a quick scan for survivors, i'm sending both of you a map now'

Heys nodded as he unpacked and loaded a eight gauge boarding shotgun, stuffing various cartridge types into his netting. He had extra netting for powerpacks and replacement barrels, but it was otherwise spartan over his tall and lean figure. His black hair was cropped short and stubble covered his angular jaw. He had a bionically enhanced right eye, capable of producing a HUD and receiving tactical information, he was also able to link it directly to the scope of his rifle if he needed. A map popped up in his view. His pupil was permanantly wide and grey.

'Yes sir.' At the very front of the boat stood staff-seargent Mortlock, his voice was gruff and rolling. He was tall, at roughly 6' 5" he was a head taller than most, ducking even in the high boarding craft. In one hand he held a chainsword, hand-cycling it to check the teeth, in his holster was a bolt pistol. He wore thick ceramic plates on his rigging, articulated with dull metal segmants, the semi-powered carapace covered his entire top half and upper legs.

Mortlock removed his Beret, tucking it into a pocket as he fitted his full helmet, the metal obscured his scarred face from view.

Flash called out from his work. 'Almost done!'

The quartermaster said one last thing to his men, 'Good luck guardsmen, you go for the imperium, and for the emperor.'

The guardsmen saluted, then clutched brought their lasrifles to their flack armor.

The hatch fell open.

* * *

There was movement behind him and a gust of air.

Rusty stopped in his tracks.

The traitor marine laughed and rested his weapon at his side, the curved blade cutting through the floor with ease.

Rusty's head turned, his shoulders eventually following, he looked back to the laughing marine. He stared at the charred eyepeices, still not moving a muscle.

His eye twiched and he narrowed his eyes.

He grabbed a chainsword from his side and lashed out with impossible speed. As he made his first swing he roared his weapon into life, the heritic had began his own look of shock as the blade tore through his abdominal armour, splashing eviserated innards onto the wall. Before the traitor could even think about reacting, Rusty had spun with the blade and landed the sword into his helmet, chunks of metal and pink tissue spewed from the teeth.

There was more movement to his right.

* * *

Cax heard the roar of a chainsword and immediately voxed in.

'Brother, report!'

Cax heard static for a response, more roars could be heard and there were bolter shots echoing down the hall.

Cax broke into a full sprint towards the armory.

* * *

Gripped in one hand, rusty again swung his bloodied weapon blindly in a broad arc to his right side. He felt it reverbriate up his arm as it connected with something. A green fist slammed into his helmet, points on the knuckles grinding into the ceramite as head whipped to the left. The sword left his hand.

He saw white for a second and caught himself falling to the floor. He quickly kicked off the floor turning his fall into a dive, smashing through a stack of boxes. He sprang to his feet and looked for his attacker.

His vision was hazy, everywhere smoke was in the room. It hadn't been there a moment ago, he could barely see the bolters he stood next to.

A mighty hammer blow hit him in his right pauldron, he slammed into a locker behind him, caving the door inwards.

Rusty took a step forwards before another hit to his neck armour slammed him into the same locker, bending the locker more and freeing it from the wall, it caused him to slump to one knee.

He could see nothing but pain and rage, he grabbed the falling cabinet with his right hand, carrying it's momentum, he hurled it in the direction of the incoming fire.

There was an loud metal crunch. The smoke partially cleared.

Rusty grabbed a nearby bolter from the floor and jumped the twenty feet towards his enemy.

Halfway across the room, at the peak of his parabola, he opened fire. His one hand was barely able to control the fierce kick of recoil from full auto fire, but the bullets found their target.

The chaos space marine had just started to stand up when the first rounds thudded into him. They first slammed him into the floor, stripping the outer layers of armour and revealing fiberous power bundles. The explosive bolts didn't stop coming.

As rusty landed he was firing into a barely definable red mass, contained by blood-stained power armour.

The bolter clicked to empty, Rusty slumped to the floor.

Cax burst into the armoury.

There was a horrific display of gore and visera, it lay strewn about the room, intermingaling with the bloodied remains of two, barely distinct, piles of green armour. Weapon racks were around the room, and ammunition lockers were fallen. Embedded in the floor was the chapter's relic blade. A thick curved, silver blade that tapered from the base to the tip. There was a stripe of dark red through the centre. The straight handle jutted out at fourty-five degrees to the floor, it was red, and covered in inscriptions of purity and the sanctity of death. It stood nearly as high as Cax.

But all this passed him by. All he saw was rusty. A bolter by his side, sitting in a pool of blood, steam from the hot gore veiled his figure. On his lap lay a bloodied mass, ending in a glove. He was cluching the red mound of burnt flesh where his left shoulder should have been.

Rusty looked to Cax in desbelief, and Cax looked right back.

* * *

Author's note:

Flash!  
Ah-ahhh...

Sorry, anyway, turns out i will update this week, but i definitely won't next week.

Oh and my brother was complaining that he doesn't like this site because it's hard to read and it makes his eyes hurt. If anyone else has this problem, change the background colour to black and make the text a little bigger (there are options at the top of the page (he couldn't find them)).

One more thing, i'm in England, so i'm operating at British summer time - GMT + 1:00 - so sorry if my update times or message times seem weird :) (also, where i can, i'll be using English spellings dreadnaught, colour, etc. (though autocorrect sometimes 'helps'(especially with 's' to 'z'(in words like apologise... and over-parenthesising))), so sorry if it seems weird.

I also rushed this chapter a little, so sorry if there were any mistakes (I might update it later if i find any glaring ones).

So... yeah, the chaos don't have to worry about rusty anymore, he's 'armless! *slaps knee*

And a big thank you to wpago for some constructive criticism that helped me write this chapter.


	5. Grey

Cax saw something in rusty that he had not seen for a long time. He saw fear, not a display of pain, or even boasting that he had, even when wounded, killed two chaos space marines alone. But outright fear, it wasn't even of more chaos forces, it was of himself, that he was capable of doing what he had done. He was incoherent and babbling things about the smoke as Cax did his best to bandage the severed limb. He fell into stupor, and eventually passed out from blood loss.

So now Cax needed to get rusty to the apothecary, his wound had just sealed, the accelerated repair of the astares forming scar tissue over his shoulder. His one tonne mass lay uslessly over a further tonne crate. It held just about one of every weapon and enough ammo to last years. Cax carried the relic scythe with his free hand as he used his mechandrites to drag his friend behind him. He had halfed the artificial gravity in the long corridor to lighten his load.

He knew he shouldn't dwell on the workings of chaos and so tried to think of something else. Anything else.

So on the stage that was his mind, he was pushing heretics and aliens aside with a thought, laughing and sipping his expensive wine as he did so with his librarian friends.

Though he knew it wasn't as easy as that. The first time he saw a librarian was just after a battle.

It was during the campaign for medusa V about a year ago he was acting as a reserve techmarine, repairing vehicles as they came off the front lines.

A Librarian, clad in golden armour was being mostly dragged towards him. He was throwing up blood and some sort of vaporus purple ichor, it was burning the ground where it fell. Cax was 'ordered' to drive the rhino back to base (something he'd never done before) by an apothecary from the ultramarines chapter. He first properly realised that librarians could hear thoughts when this one burst our laughing dispite his pain - luckily he was from the Salamanders chapter, from which the crimson scythes desended, and didn't mind the slanderous thoughts.

Thin whisps of smoke were around the corridor.

There was a loud noise ahead of him. Looking up from his thoughts he couldn't see anything unusual. He activated his auspex array. There was a blank screen as it warmed up, after a second there was a signal, some movement. More green blips popped up on the screen, alot of signals... or one big signal.

It was moving towards him.

Acting quickly, he embedded his scythe in a wall next to him and turned the crate lengthways across the corridor. He pushed Rusty hard, and he fell gentely to the floor. There was a loud screech of metal from down the corridor.

Cax lept over the crate and opened it after flipping open the catches. He reached in and pulled out an astares Mk IV heavy bolter and a 210 round clip. He resealed the crate and began setting up his new found friend.

The smoke became heavier.

He mounted the heavy weapon on the box, the sharp bibod spikes scarred it before spearing into the grooves.

Cax had three servo arms, and he was being forced to use them all.

The primary mechandrite, a large, hydroulic arm ending in a damaged vice acted as a tertiary leg to absorb the recoil. The secondary was more like a segmented, metallic tail intended for fine and detailed work; it was plugged into the heavy bolter to input power. He was using the final one, essentially a scanner and camera to search the crate externally for anything that could be useful and keep an eye out behind him. He was using both his hands to load and cock the bolter.

Cax couldn't help but remember when he was seven and had trouble rubbing his head and patting his belly... or was it the other way around. The mechanicus training had prepared him somewhat for such things anyway, but they said 'true skill comes with time.' Cax smiled at his own impression of the forge master on mars, an odd piercing voice, like a saw cutting through metal. Cax was selected for the mechanicus because he apparently had 'a singular affinity with the machine spirit'.

There were thick tendrils of heavy smoke writhing around the walls, floor and ceiling.

Another loud bang derailed his train of thought and cax was almost surprised to see that he had prepared everything. He aimed down sight and saw outline of a space marine.

A voice rang down the corridor, it was that same voice, screeching and tearing metal.

'Sniper Rifle, 'Ultra' Pattern, Mark IX'

The area darkened and the fog condensed into dark red walls.

'A potent mechanism, it is the weapon of choice for Space Marine snipers. Different from standard weapons, the 'Ultra' fires twice in essence: Firstly as a long las to create a stream of low density air and secondly as a magnetic inductor to accelerate two kilogram Ferrum slug at speeds of two times ten to the five meters per second. It produces a recoil of force of approximately 2 million newtons, producing a stress of 32 megapascals on the shoulder... theoretically.'

This was near the end of his training, he needed to have a textbook knowlege of all astares weapon systems.

'As you should know, that is enough force to hurl a space marine backwards at 400 meters per second, you'll figure out why it dosen't later. Each Mark IX has several integral systems that I expect you to familiarize yourself with.'

This wasn't right, he'd already passed these tests. He looked in confusion to the forge master, his grizzled face was unyeilding.

'Every Mark IX is unique. They are custom made to match perfectly with the Space Marine Brother to which it has been issued. Each rifle is also fitted with a security system allowing only other space marines of our chapter to use it. This system, composed of a sensor pad in the weapon s stock, makes contact with a matching pad in the palm of the glove worn on the Space Marine s shooting hand. The weapon's cogitator will then unlock and allow the use of the weapon. If anyone else attempts to use the weapon, the cogitator will disable the firing mechanism. Dismantle yours now.'

Cax looked down to the two meter long rifle at his workbench, he unscrewed the bolts in the casing, allowing him to remove the relay and trigger mechanisms. He'd already done this several years ago, he looked to the people around him. They were doing the same as he should have been, eyes down and on their work. He needed to leave to help his friend.

It was suddenly deathly quiet.

'Having problems marine?' Cax looked up to see the forge master barely an inch from his face.

'Yes, i have to go.' Cax motioned to get up, but found he couldn't.

The looming figure didn't respond, simply staring with an odd smile at Cax.

He began to laugh, quiet at first, slowley getting louder.

The room was cold. Cold enough that his breath was visable. It worried Cax that he couldn't see the breath of the thing before him.

He had to leave.

The Darkened figure snapped his head down staring at him blankly. It was silent again.

A tendril grew towards him from the shape infront of him; raw, twisted flesh wrapped around Cax's torso, the cold numbed his flesh. He was suddenly and painfully aware that he was not wearing his armour. He couldn't back away.

The mass reformed and grew grey skin. It streched, like plastic over a mould, into a recognisable figure.

It was the armour of a space marine, its arm streching and deforming into a foul-smelling tentacle that had wrapped around cax.

The skin streched further, filling out the neck and revealing the head, deepset in the thick armour.

The face formed now.

Dicax dreaded what he saw.

The cracked features formed into a bloodthirsty grin. The eyes formed, glossy black beads surrounded by charred flesh.

It was a young face; it was Russel's face.

Pain flooded through his chest.

* * *

The quartermaster waited for the all clear from the commandos. The soldiers seemed a little nervous, but determined enough... they wouldn't do anything stupid. He leaned back in his seat and pulled up a tactical display of the ship.

Mortlock leaned through the door, a soldier jumped at the sudden movement. 'All clear.'

The guardsmen rose from their seats, they filed through the airlock and crossed the loading bay. It was bare aside from a yellow, mechanical arm protruding from the floor, and a few painted warnings of explosive decompression. The room was lit by a single floodlight array. They stopped by the entrance to the corridor.

The staff seargent disabled his throat vox unit and motioned for the party to gather round.

'Small change of plan,' he explained in his low, rhythmic voice, 'i'll be escorting you to the supplys, not Eden.' Everyone nodded an acknowlegement. 'And if anybody tells the chief i'll introduce their arse to my boot.' Worried looks bounced around the guards, the two seargents smiled.

'Callsigns are the usual. Though it shouldn't matter much anyway.' He cocked his bolt pistol, 'any questions?'

There was a brief silence wherein a few men shook their heads.

'Okay, we'll breach and clear, you guys follow me and watch your sectors.'

The staff seargent motioned for the other commandos to get ready, Rosalind unclasped her knife and drew her pistol. Hayes pumped his shotgun.

Roz looked concerned, 'What type of shells are you using?'

He checked his bandoleer. 'Assorted lethal rounds... non explosive, i also have a few flash and CS rounds that could be handy and about six plasma shells incase we meet something scary.' He grinned after his response.

'Good...' she looked up to the staff seargent shrugging, 'ready when you are.'

He punched the door control and stepped through the doorway, pistol raised. Roz and Hayes quickly followed suit.

'Clear right.'

'Throne!' Roz stumbled, but caught herself and took a knee, quickly covering her sector. 'Clear left'.

'Ahh, fuck!' Hayes' feet slipped from beneath him and he broke his fall by hitting the ground with an outstreched arm. He recovered and rose to his feet. 'The fucking AG is off.'

'Guys!' Mortlock growled, 'You know better than that! Keep your voices down and get your acts together.'

'Aye sir' The reply was synchronos, but Roz added a sorry.

'Get moving, and get your heads in the game.'

They set off left down the passage, Mortlock waved the guards through.

He paused for a second looking over the men as they stumbled through the doorway.

'On me, stick to formation.'

He walked down the passage, weapon raised. Twelve guardsmen and an engineer followed him into the yellow gloom.

* * *

_"The surest road to chaos is slow, where one walks from grace_ _into the unyielding maelstrom from which there is no escape._

_The road seems plain, and straight, but it is the labyrinth of Tzeentch: hidden pathways woven from deceit, and the promises of change._

_It seems the best choice at first, a harmless lie, a hopeful wish, or careless haste. Betraying yourself, dooming yourself, losing yourself._

_Heed my words; you must never stray from the Emperor's path. For there can be no repentance, it cannot be undone,_

___ that path will be the last you can ever walk. For it is our duty as servants to the Emperor to burn the heretic and kill the mutant.__"_

Cax looked at the face in front of him, its eyes burned like they were fueled by the lies of billions of men, bright, white hot light spewed from its gaping mouth. Two meanings plunged into his conscious brain. The pain was impossible; his thoughts ached in agony.

The meanings lingered there for a while, disorientating and confusing.

They soon coalesced and Cax could only hear two words.

'HELP ME!'

Cax's world snapped from the Grey back into reality, he could see the ceiling of the corridor, feel the cold air on his face and his unusually light self. Rusty had him pinned to the ground, their faces were barely inches from each other, his one arm was braced against his neck. Rusty's face was horribly contorted his jaws were open unnaturally wide and vaporous white liquid dripped from his maw. Cax felt the heat from his eyes and mouth scorching his armor, the dripping liquid had burnt through the Imperial Aquila on his chest. He could feel it burning through his multi-lung, the sphincter in his trachea stopping him from coughing up blood.

Cax suddenly felt very alive, the pain woke up his entire body.

With all his enhanced strength, he pushed Russel, hard. His form shot upwards and slammed into the ceiling, his one arm flailed wildly as it did so.

Cax rolled to the side as the figure crashed down, he rolled to his feet and drew his knife. He regretted leaving most of his equipment in the case. He could barely breathe.

Russel landed on his feet, crouching - looking ready to pounce. He screamed. A soul-rendering wail cut through the entire ship. Even with his helmet's sound dampeners, Cax heard the noise. He felt the immense pain resonate through his head.

Russel pounced forwards, his arm was outstretched. His face portrayed pure rage, carved from pain.

Cax was betrayed by his friendship, and did not react to the attack. The heavy astares warrior slammed into his abdomen, they both flew several meters and crashed into a doorway. Cax tumbled to the floor and quickly rose to his feet, weapons ready, but they were not necessary. Rusty had ran down a corridor, back towards the armory, the loud clangs of his boots echoed down the hall and quickly faded.

Cax staggered back to the crate and pulled it open, he lifted out a red medical box and slumped to the floor by the wall. He grabbed a surgical mirror from the plethora of equipment and examined his chest wound.

The liquid, whatever it was, had burned through his black carapace, he could feel the heat burning his insides. He quickly grabbed a pressurised can of biofoam; essentially a organic-compatible filler liquid that expanded and plugged gaps to prevent bleeding and secure organs. He braced himself for pain and depressed the nozzle.

Sharp pain, like a thousand needles, stabbed into the open wound before the numbing agent took effect. His chest cavity resealed, Cax drew in a painful breath.

He sat there for a few minutes with his head in his hands, it felt like days. He had lost one of the last people able to give a geneseed, he had lost a third of the chapter. He knew what chaos corruption looked like, he knew he had lost a brother to chaos.

More important than all this, it seemed, he had lost one of his few friends. He hoped, in a way, that rusty was dead. He would not have to suffer then, his mind slowly turning against him, turning him insane. He also hoped Russel was only possessed, and was not in control of his actions, he did not want to think of a mind twisted enough to try to kill his brother.

He sat silently, contemplating rescue attempts and methods of cleansing. Most would be unsuccessful.

His head hung low. Hours passed, counted by ticks from his oxygen supply.

There was a quiet rumble emanating from the corridor in front of the temporary fortification. Cax looked to the auspex that he had dropped, and saw the signals approaching a junction about 50 meters ahead of him. He rose to his feet and grabbed the heavy bolter.

He was almost pleased by what he saw next. A terrified, human, expression was visible for a second before it darted back behind the wall. Cax recognised the helmet. It was an imperial guardsman.

* * *

Author's note:

Hi, sorry it's late, my parents said we were going on holiday this weekend and i didn't realise it was a camping holiday.

I don't know how to describe mortlock's voice, so just imagine Liam Neeson or Master Chief John from Halo... whichever you prefer.

The maths should be correct if my assumptions are true:

m a = F

2Kg * ((2*10^5m/s) / 0.2s) = 2MN

L * W = A

0.297m * 0.210m = 0.06237m^2 (approximate area of butt (A4 paper size))

N / m^2 =Pa

2 MN / 0.06237m^2 = 32MPa

m a = F

F / m = a

2MN / [mass of fully kitted space marine i'm guessing 1000kg(1 tonne)] = 2000 m/s^2

a * T = V

2000m/s^2 * 0.2s = 400m/s

Got some info about sniper rifle 'lexicanicum(dot)com', but improved it because it was boring (so now it's a little AU).

I enjoyed the psychological scene bit thingy... but i kinda think it wasn't quite right :/

Anyway, i was thinking of changing the perspective to a first-person recount... kinda like a diary. I'd switch characters if i needed to but it would mostly be from cax's viewpoint, i reckon i'd find it easier to add description and whatnot (please give opinions).

Also you may notice that i tend not to capitalize my 'I's, this is because it is essentially a way of saying I am worthy of a capital and you are not and i disagree with that... no other language does it (that i know of).

Also, my offer for suggested characters is still open and likely will be indefinately (unless i say otherwise), I am willing to add basically any character (within some limits) as it could be a fun challange, just contact me and we'll discuss it (It can be anyone, an inquisitor, a marine, a chaos dude).

Woo 3,000 words ignoring these ones and the rest of the notes.


	6. Cax's red helmet

Salvage Op Astares Frigate Reaper

6.080.780.M41

* * *

Seargent Seth Hayes

* * *

The long hall was illuminated only by a dim circle of light, scouring the area for threats before switching, occasionally, to another cold and noiseless corridor. The semi-resounding thud of galvanised rubber on metal grate served only to punctuate the eerie calm of the deserted space craft.

'Sit down,' I threw a tin ration wrapper at the pacing commando and finished my mouthful, 'you're making me nervous.'

Roz moved to the wall opposite the terminal and slid to the floor. She turned off her lamp. Her face became visible through the soft glow of the high intensity fibre optics at my back, it displayed a carefully measured contempt. 'How long are you gunna be anyway?'

'Well it's more difficult than i thought,' i replied, sliding back beneath the bright thicket, 'half the data banks on this ship are fried, and the rest aren't powered.'

I pushed a few of the cables aside to reach into the console above and yanked a processor unit from it's housing.

There was a brief flash of arking electricity.

'This isn't right,' i explained, examining the now burnt unit, 'it's almost like every single board has been shorted... i'd have expected some fuses to still work.'

'Maybe it's sabotage.' Roz suggested, her voice sounding characteristically mellifluous.

'Maybe, but it would have been pretty much pointless; kinda kicking the ship while it was down... plus it still would actually work for a while. Though you do make an interesting point, it's probably intentional.' I pushed myself out of the maintanance alcove and rose to my feet, brushing myself off theatrically.

'Could it be powering something?' Roz asked as she too rose to her feet. I noticed her knife was in her hand, she had been spinning it silently.

'I doubt it,' i responded, allowing my face to show a brief look of concern at the knife before meeting her gaze, 'there are powerlines for that. Though if you were in a hurry it might help: these wires are running hot, but not hot enough to melt.' I turned to the console and pressed an unnassuming button, prompting the ship schematic to pop up. I ignored most of the image and focused on the blue power lines. Only one engine was working by the look of it, and for some reason the gellar field was up.

I depressed the vox bead on my shoulder to open the channel to mortlock. 'Sarge, you read me?' There was static for a brief moment before a grumble of an answer.

'Do what you think is best Hayes, I'm busy.' The line went dead.

I shrugged and started activating override procedures, 'i'm disableing the gellar field it won't affect anything else and it should let me bring life support back online.' I couldn't see her, but i heard her lean against the wall. I assumed she had no objections.

The security systems didn't really put up a fight, there weren't even any nasty surprises like lock-outs or circuit burners. I was genuinely surprised. It was only two minutes and i had life support back up and running.

I heard Roz shout my name.

* * *

Adeptus astares brother Dicax Malleus

* * *

I dropped the heavy bolter, noting it was partially dismantled anyway, and called out... something scary... i wasn't in the best of moods.

'Reveal yourselves! Or you will be another target,' i said, in my best ultramarine-standoffish voice.

They seemed to think i couldn't hear them as they talked to their leader about an appropriate response.

My reply came in the form of a armoured commando stepping out round the corner, his gun was slung behind his back.

'I am Staff sergeant Mortlock of the joint scarus imperial fleet. Commando and special operations division.' Now that was a cool introduction.

'Do you require assistance?' he asked after getting no reply from me.

'Yes, as a matter of fact,' i replied, dropping the threatening tone, 'and so does a friend of mine. Get me the ranking officer of your deployment, i need to have an extraction autherised.'

I'd talked to a few other imperial guard in my time and it's funny how they act, they're never sure how to treat you. Wether to salute and say 'yessir' after i've finished any sentance, or if they should talk to their superiors. They were always shit-scared of me which tended to work anyway. This guy seemed fairly cool-headed though.

'Right away space marine' he said as he respectfully shouldered his rifle and lightly bowed, he certainly knew his ettiquette.

The armour he was wearing was covered in imperial markings, I was reminded of why i became a space marine, the blade of the scythe they called it, where guardsmen are the handle. It was supposed to be some weird metaphore, but it basically ment that we astares could not work without imperial support.

'What is your mission here?' I asked as i dismounted the heavy bolter and began stowing it in the box, taking my mind off of Rusty.

'Salvage,' he replied, 'and rescue,' he added, almost a moment too late.

Before i could ask more questions, another guardsman walked into view.

His uniform was simple, grey drab with flack armour. On his back was a boxy looking vox-pack. He spoke in a hushed voice to his staff-seargent.

A second later, a Vox headset was held towards me, 'you wanted to speak to the brass?.'

Ahh, the brass. It's not as though i miss ending every sentance with sir, but they were fun in their own way.

Nodding my head slightly, i tore the scythe from the ship's wall, muttering a brief benediction both to the machine spirit of the ship and to the purity of the relic.

I crossed the gap between myself and the guardsmen, I took fairly quick strides. I was far too pleased to stand a full two feet taller than both the commando and the radio vox operator, a LCpl Gigs if his self-stiched ident band was to be believed.

He stared at my chest, mouth agape. The wound had formed a crimson clot that seemed to horrify him. It was suddenly painful again as it sprang to the fore of my mind. Keeping my eyes on the soldier before me, i took the headset, noting that it was attached to this 'Gigs' and with my right hand, i pushed down hard on my helmet, twisting it to release the seal.

I suddenly saw all in a remarkable lack of clarity as i lifted my headgear.

I pushed the red helmet into the guardsman's chest, prompting him to instinctively take it, he almost dropped it, seemingly surprised by the weight. I held the head peice to my ear.

'-tus report.' the voice was raised and caused strange distortions, 'i could hear you talking in the background so the next words better be explaining how you died, or i'll start explaining how you will die.' His voice was sharp and threatening.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

Adeptus astares Apothecary-Dreadnaught Chronos

* * *

I had slept for a few hours, my head still hurt the rest of my body was numb. I shook off the groggyness after a few seconds, i could almost feel my Catalepsean node ticking over.

My rude awakening was brought on by a wierd humm, and a flashing HUD. 'Power input increased,' it read, 'combat readiness in four minutes.'

There was a timer in the top right corner of my field of view, it read '00:04:06' and it was counting down. I noticed there was also a damage report, all sections were green, aside from the fusion generator.

There was also an ammo count that rather surprised me. It showed 198 rounds present. There was also a small program indicator at the bottom, one was hilighted in a pale blue.

As i looked at it, it expanded and information screened itself in a semi-transparant film over my feild of view.

It showed two files, one named 'One ' the other named 'Two .'

It had cax's elegant handiwork written all over it.

I thought hard of the first one, willing it to open. There was a brief delay before a text display opened over the other elements of the HUD, as i concentrated, it became clearer and easier to define.

'Chronos, you will find all this abit weird,' I chuckled at that belittlement, then i was surprised i could chuckle, 'you've come out of this relatively OK, you should know more about your medical status than me though (see attached). You still have your voice, and control of your head, which is more than most dreadnaughts could say, you are running on version 7.39.3 variation B. Remember that.'

As i read those words, and tried to remember the numbers they suddenly appeared in my memory, as if i had known them forever. It must have been some form of data storage.

'The second program is for training, you'll find out how to do all the basic stuff, if you get attacked you should be able to defend yourself pretty easily, it's designed to be fairly intuative.

We'll be back soon.

Good luck.'

Attached were two further documents, one summarizing the use of the storm bolter, the other was a medical document i chose to (temporarily) ignore.

I willed the programs shut. I was about to run 'two,' but I noticed a blinking amber warning. Concentrating on it caused a camera feed to open. The picture revealed a lit corridor, though the lights faltered and faded intermittently. What light there was revealed two imperial guard, one was unconscious, the other was bloodied and dragging the first, pistol pointed where they had come from.

I opened a vox link to the corridor they were in, I chose to waste no time, 'follow the corridor left,' the marine seemed surprised by my voice. She did not look scared, more determined and worried. 'Assult hangar two, I cannot come to you, but I can protect you.'

The poorly resolved figure nodded, and dragged her friend round a corner.

* * *

Author's note:

Apparently I suck at updating after a week, so... ummm sorry...

Anyway, i decided it had gotten beyond a joke and uploaded this (shortish) chapter, I have no doubt that it is riddled with errors as i wrote the latter half after 12... which is late for me. I'd still love criticisms though and i'll have a proper read through and maybe an extension at some point over the next week.

To anyone who hasn't, thanks for not giving up :)

My many and various thanks and commendations to any and all who review and criticise my work... or anyone's work for that matter.

I still want people's idea's for characters... i really don't care if it's just 'a guy called Ted' I just want to include other people's ideas and see how i cope with it as a writing exercise.

Also, it occurred to me that Chronos could be running on windows 40,000 which made me smile.

EDIT: a few corrections, a quick job as i have to fix a piano now. Still not fully finished.

EDIT Mk II: added some stuff, deleted some stuff, maybe fully completed, I don't know. Not properly proofread yet as I'm lazy. I promise action next chapter, special thanks to darkeldar (the writer not the race) for an awesome and constructive review of my work.

P.s. I will have broken my rule of non-capital 'i's as I am updating through a borrowed iPad (also why I'm not proof reading properly yet).


End file.
